


You can't take the sky from me

by suyari



Series: What Tomorrow Brings [1]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 20:42:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3623649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suyari/pseuds/suyari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heaven is a place where you are loved forever by everyone who has ever loved you. There is no pain and there is no death. And that is enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You can't take the sky from me

**Author's Note:**

> The medieval concept of Heaven was much different than what is depicted in this fic. However I am going by what was represented on the show as evidence for Athelstan's understanding. 
> 
> Please Note: Major Spoilers for Born Again. If you have not seen it, turn away now.

The warmth of the sun on his face was the first thing to greet him. It was so bright, he could barely open his eyes. But once he tried, he found it did not hurt, and more so, the light was not coming from the sky, but from the golden hair of the woman crouching over him. “Athelstan,” she said, voice the sweetest sound he had ever been blessed to hear. He pushed himself up, a sweet breeze caressing his skin from all directions and none. “Welcome home.” 

He took her hands and marveled at the steadiness in his legs, the ease with which she pulled him to his feet. Stared at the face of an angel and felt the breath leave him. His lips parted, the name drawn from well - he was all soul now, wasn’t he? “Gyda?” 

She smiled and he felt tears in his eyes that felt as if they had leapt free of his very heart. “You recognized me.”

“How is this possible?” he asked, squeezing her hands. He took a step back and looked her up and down, trying to reconcile the stately maiden before him with the beautiful child they had lost so long ago. 

“All things are possible here.” 

Beyond her a line of young men waited. Athelstan could see Ragnar in them. The strength of his jaw and the stubbornness of his brow, but also Lagertha’s expressive eyes and the curve of her mouth. They were all large as Bjorn in various states of Viking youth. Men yes, but young men, none of them appearing much older than the only son of Ragnar’s Athelstan had been privileged enough to see reach adulthood. 

“My brothers,” Gyda explained. She looped her arm in his and gently guided him past. Athelstan could feel them following, the familiar loom of the Lothbrok men. “I never knew how much my mother had suffered.” She waved a hand and a smaller form appeared beside her. Not yet fully grown, he reminded Athestan of Bjorn as a child. Though he was a lot more pleasant in the smile he greeted him with. “You know my brother,” Gyda continued. “You were with our family when he was lost to us.” 

Athelstan stopped and they paused beside him. The boy didn’t object to the hand that reached out to touch him, sweeping down his face and cupping his cheek gently. He tilted his face into the touch with a small smile before they drew away from one another. 

“Gyda,” he began again. “I don’t understand.” 

“You died, Athelstan,” she explained with the blunt Viking acceptance of the beyond. 

“Yes,” he agreed. “Floki slit my throat.”

“Floki,” she huffed, brow creasing. Her arm slipped around his shoulders and they began walking again. Ragnar and Lagertha’s youngest lost son finding his way to Athelstan’s other side and sidling up beside him in support. He dropped his arm about him in response, somehow taking comfort in the feel of his spirit close. The thrum of family familiar and soothing, even if he had only ever felt the child move in his mother’s womb once or twice. And even that had been an unexpected blessing. “Will be dealt with in his own time.” She smiled at him. “For now, you are home. And that is all that matters. Come, we have so many people to introduce you to. And many friends who will be happy to see you.” 

“But I thought...I…”

“Do you remember what you told me as a child when I asked you what Heaven was?”

“Heaven is where Christians-”

“No,” she interrupted. “No. You are confused. That is not at all what you said.” 

“Then what did I say?” he replied, though even as he said it, and she opened her mouth to reply, he remembered. 

_They had left him alone with the children. Two curious children who asked more questions than he had answers for. And whose questions he was afraid of answering in ways for which he would later be punished, and yet, he found he could not find it in himself to lie._

_“Heaven,” he echoed, putting down the netting he’d been trying to learn to work. Leave it to Gyda to ask the hardest questions. “Well, Heaven is where we believe our Lord resides. It is a holy place where we lay down our burdens and go to our eternal rest.”_

_“But what is it like there?” she asked, nimble fingers working the netting expertly._

_“We don’t know.”_

_Bjorn scoffed. “Why would you want to go to a place you don’t know anything about? How do you know you will even be happy there?”_

_“Because, Heaven is where our loved ones reside. They wait for us there, and when we find our reward, it is a release from the pains that come with life, but it is also a rejoicing. Heaven is a place where you are loved forever by everyone who has ever loved you. There is no pain and there is no death. And that is enough.”_

_“It does not sound fun at all,” Bjorn sulked._

_“But what happens when you marry?” Gyda asked, concerned._

_“All of your family will be awaiting you, Gyda. You needn’t worry about marriage. It will just mean more people to greet you.”_

_She smiled, looking down at the netting. “How many people are waiting for you there, Athelstan?”_

_“I have never had a family,” he replied. “I wouldn’t know.”_

_“So no one then,” Bjorn countered. “Why do you want to go to this Heaven?”_

_They both looked so concerned for him, he found he had no answer to safely give them. So he looked down at his work and let them commandeer the conversation, telling him all about Valhalla and why it was a far preferable place to his Heaven._

“But...I died a Christian,” he explained. “I prayed to my Lord God. He spoke to me before I died.” 

“And your God is a loving God, is he not?” she asked, as if it were not a matter of contention. 

“Yes.”

“And would a loving God who creates a Heaven of loved ones not make allowances?” 

“So...this is not Heaven?” 

“It is your Heaven, Athelstan.”

“And for you?”

“For us, it is Fólkvangr.”

“You wouldn’t like Valhalla much,” her brother added, smiling up at him. “Freya thought you would be happier here with us. But you can visit when you want.” 

“You’re unique, Athelstan,” Gyda explained. “You always have been. And for someone with a heart such as yours, allowances have been made. But for now, perhaps we shall wait until Father is in Valhalla until we visit? It is yet housing some who will be dismayed to see you and not yet enough who will be happy to. And those who will be will be happier to see you later rather than sooner.” 

“And for Ragnar’s sake I hope it is a long time indeed.” 

She smiled and rested her head to his shoulder. “I have missed you, Athelstan.”

“And I you, Gyda.” 

“Come, you must be weary. And there is a feast awaiting you.” 

“A feast?” 

“You’re home, are you not? Of course we’ve prepared a feast! We’ve got to welcome you home properly!” She raised a delicate brow. “Will you drink?”

Athelstan laughed. Head thrown back and filled to bursting with the joy of it. “Yes, Gyda. I will drink.” 

“We’ll make a proper Viking of you yet.”

“You’re more than welcome to try.”


End file.
